


Once Upon a Dream

by courfelicious



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: I wrote it with one-sided usuk in mind on america's part, M/M, and it's never mentioned, but it's very subtal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5645368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courfelicious/pseuds/courfelicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has been suffering from recurring terrible nightmares for a while now, but it’s not until he meets in real life the demon of his dreams as the exchange student Francis Bonnefoy that his life is truly turned upside down. - Written for the frukhalloweenweek2015, day 6!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Reh (of-pasta-and-potatoes.tumblr), who once again cheered for me all along. You’re an angel really!  
> I'm aph-icecold on tumblr btw, come say hi~!  
> \-- x ---  
> João = Portugal

The air was sickling sultry, so tick it made it hard to breath. Arthur felt feverish, as the sweat run down his forehead and neck. Dripped from his chin. His clothes kept sticking to his skin, and when he run a hand through his hair it was completely soaked. Gross, he thought, suddenly feeling nauseous.

He did not know where he was, or even what exactly that place was supposed to be. Something, however, told him he had already been there before. The though did not comfort the boy in the slightest.

All around was pitch black, except for some random red lights that would sometimes illuminate the nothing ahead. Arthur knew he was standing, and yet could see no floor. A creeping sensation kept hitting him that he could fall at any moment - fall down a hole into the oblivium and just keep falling, forever.

The screaming silence did nothing to help. All he could hear were his accelerated heart beats and asthmatic breath, trying hard to retrieve as much oxygen as possible from the hellish muggy weather.

Desperation had started to get the best of him when, suddenly, he heard a voice. Two voices? He could not understand what they were saying, but started running at their general direction anyway. They could be his only chance of escaping that place, and Arthur wasn’t about to throw that away.

And so he run. Run, run and run. For minutes. Hours? The boy could not tell. It felt like walking on circles, as he could not see anything and the sounds hardly seemed any near, if it all. Terrified, breathless and completely drained, he collapsed to the ground, hopelessly.

Except just then, when he had already given up, the voices became startling clearer. And they sounded like… Moaning?

And now they were way too loud, deafening!! They were everywhere, they were even inside of Arthur’s head and as he curled himself into a ball all he wanted was for them to stop, oh God, please someone had to make it stop!  
He tried to scream, but no sound would come out. Panicking even more, he decided that no matter how tired he felt he needed to get away. He needed to get the hell out of there and fast.

When he lift his head, however, the scene before him had the boy utterly paralysed. There was a couple aggressively making out - two man - and they were almost naked. But were they really man? One of them had long dark wings coming out of his back, and horns rising from his head that curl on themselves. These hellish characteristics, contrasting with his sun kissed skin and silky shoulder leight hair that went down like a golden cascade, made the creature something alike of a physical embodiment of temptation, and Arthur felt equal parts attracted and repulsed.

As for the other one… He looked exactly like Arthur himself. Startling so, like a carbon copy. And yet he knew by his body language, the way he moaned, his expressions...That that thing was not him. Or was it?  
He did not know what would be worse.

What he did know was that whatever was going on was wrong, prohibited. They could not be together. They had to stop and it was up to him to intervene.  
Except he still couldn’t scream, and not even move. He was stuck looking at the horrifying scene, and there was nothing he could do.

While he struggled, the making out session kept progressing. The person who looked like Arthur seemed to have noticed his presence, as the creature exaggerated his own expressions of pleasure, while the demon sucked at his neck. When Arthur locked eyes with him, the copy smirked.

\- x -

He woke up with a jump, sitting on the bed, breathing heavily. Trying to calm himself down, the boy looked around, eyes of a madman, as the thought of all having just been a bad dream started to sink in. Despite being now fully awake, the terror had yet to leave.

All was normal, though. He was in his room, the widow was still open, like he had forgotten it the night before, and a light breeze gently rocked the curtains. There wasn’t much sun, but that was to be expected of an autumn day in England. He felt a chill run down his spine as the cold air hit him.

His pyjamas were completely soaked of sweat, as were the bed sheets, he came to realise. He tried not to duel on it.

\- x -

“And THEN they started snogging, right in front of me! And I don’t know, I mean, the one who looked like me seemed off. I don’t know why, or how I know, but that was NOT me. And I knew I had to intervene, to stop them, but I couldn’t move… I was completely paralysed. And no matter how much I tried to scream, no sound would come out. ”, recounted Arthur, running his hands down his face. God, he was so, so tired. “I mean, you know I try not to let these things get to me, but this time was honestly terrible..”

“Ugh, I don’t know, dude”, said tAlfred, gazing sideways at the shorter boy beside him.

“What?”

“Like, this is sounding way more like a really kinky wet dream to me than anything else, specially knowing you… But hey, you do you, buddy! I don’t kinky shame! - he explained, throwing his head back and laughing hard. It didn’t last for long, though, as Arthur slapped the back of his head, right after kicking his ankle, “OUCH!! Hey! This was uncalled for!

“Uncalled for my ass, you bloody twat!, exclaimed him, face all red. “God knows why I still tell you anything…”

“Oh, common Arthie, you know I was only kidding! You’ve been so down lately, I thought it would make you laugh, hum?”, apologised the American boy, all big puppy eyes.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I’m not buying your crap excuses”, argued the other, crossing his arms.

“Arthieee, commooon! Don’t be like that! Yes, the dream was terrifying, but you know you have nothing to fear right?” , said he, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “I’m the hero after all! I’ll protect you from anything!”  
Arthur thisked, but didn't move away. For once, the big, athletic figure of his American friend felt more reassuring than annoying.

As the two left the University’s building, a familiar face came up. Sitting on a bench with some friends was João, who upon seeing them promptly started waving and came to meet them.

“Hey guys…”, he was about to say something, but after getting a better look at his English friend, changed his mind. “Jesus Arthur, you look like shit.. Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m okay, I’m okay. It’s just those nightmares again…”, he brushed off. Alfred gave him a concerned look.

“Yeah? Well, I was going to invite you both to have lunch at Vargas’ with me and António, apparently he’s befriended some new guy from his class and wants us to meet him… But maybe it would be better for you to go home get some rest?”

“No, no, I’m all right, really! Let’s go meet whoever this is, if it’s a friend of Tony’s then he must be terrible”

“Are you sure Arthie? Maybe João is right?”, tried the American.

“Oh shut it, you both, I don’t need babysitting…”, exasperated, he left the other two and started walking in the restaurant’s direction. With a shrug, the others followed him.

As they walked towards the place, Arthur felt a mix of exasperation and sadness get to him. He knew his friends thought it weird how much the nightmares were affecting him, and probably thought his researching topic for his sociology class, “The Bible’s apocalypse and it’s effects in modern society behaviour and literature” (still no title at sight), was probably to blame as well.

Maybe they were right, though. Maybe it would do him some good to let those books be for a bit and concentrate in other papers in the mean time.

Or that’s what he had though before entering the restaurant and seeing none else than the demon of his dreams, sitting right across Antonio in one of the place’s tables. Horrified, he stopped in front of the door, unable to move.

“What’s got in to you Arthur? Move along, you’re blocking the door!”, complained João, pushing him away and walking towards the two. As Alfred followed him, Arthur felt as he had no choice but to go as well. Besides, he couldn’t help but to feel a bit, well, curious.

\- x -

As it turned out, the creature name’s was Francis Bonnefoy and he was an exchange student from France. The name itself was so obnoxious that Arthur couldn’t help rolling his eyes, but as he came to realise, everything about the man’s personality was extremely annoying.

Arthur couldn’t stand him, and yet, couldn’t bring himself to leave.

All was rather ordinary during the whole lunch, as they got to know the new fella (whom everybody else seemed to get along with just fine), until it was time to leave. As they rose from their sits, the Frenchman took one of Arthur’s hands and bowed, gently kissing it.

“It’s been a pleasure to finally meet you, Arthur”, he said with a wink and a tiny laugh, as if there was an inside joke in it that only the both of them could understand.

Arthur felt a chill run down his spine.

\- x -

That night, when he walked into the shower, the English boy started to reflect on the events of his day. With his body relaxed by the hot water purring on him, his mind felt clearer.

He had tried to tell Alfred about Francis and the man from his dreams similarities but, despite seeming quite perturbed and creped out, the boy had laughed and let it go, saying it must just be Arthur’s impression and that maybe he really should have gone home to rest earlier after all. He did walk that tiny bit closer to Arthur for the rest of the day, it’s true, but for the sake of his sanity and everybody’s impression of him, maybe it would be best for Arthur not to mention his dreams or anything related to them for a while. It wouldn’t do well for his already not so good image having people think he was crazy.

As he cleaned his hair, for a second, he thought to have seen something odd in the mirror. As the boy gazed at his reflection, it smirked at him.

Arthur himself definitely wasn’t smirking though.

He tried to dry his eyes on the towel, but by the time he looked at his own reflection again, the smirk was gone. There was only his own, bulging eyes gazing full of terror back at him.

\- x -

The beautiful garden around him started to disintegrate. The flowers turned to ashes and the trees caught fire. Somewhere a piece of wood cracked and cut Arthur on one of his checks.

The air still felt muggy, like in his previous dream, but this time around it was even more difficult to breath thanks to the smoke. The sunlight, before clear and peaceful, became the colour of blood, painting everything it touched in shades of red and black.

From the flames, looking like a demon, emerged Francis, with open arms. And, despite reason telling him to run and not look back, Arthur still felt like throwing himself on them.

\- x -

The two weeks that followed were pretty uneventful, but he still felt deeply shaken by the previous occurrences. In fact, he sensed that those peaceful days might be something alike of the calm before the storm.

After the bathroom affair, he started to avoid mirrors, afraid of what they might reflect. That was an easy task, yet, compared to ignoring the cut on his check, which he had woken up with after one of his nightmares.

At first he had though he might be hallucinating, seeing things, but once Alfred and João both confirmed that yes, they could see the scar, he deduced it must be real.

Another problem was the obvious attraction he had developed for Francis. He truly, really fancied the other man, which exasperated him to no end. There was no denying though, and even his common friends had started to pick up on it. Even Alfred-most-oblivious-person-on-Earth could tell their behaviours around each other were rather odd and “funny”.

It’s true that they were always discussing - and once had even had such a big fight they almost got to a point of getting physical, and probably would have if people around hadn’t intervened - but even those moments Arthur liked. In fact, he relished on them. The man never seemed to step back when it came to the Englishman, always ready to refute every point of his arguments, to sass him back in response to Arthur’s sarcasm. Francis was all teasing and winks and and flipped hair and languid smiles and it infuriated Arthur so much and. Oh boy. He was so, so far gone for that Frog.

Besides, if the man had been only appearance and no brains it would have been one thing, but the devil had to be ridiculous intelligent as well. Somehow, he seemed to have extensive knowledge in almost all historical and religious topics - which made him a quite valuable font for Arthur’s research, despite how often their opinions differed. He was an amazing painter, and an incredibly avid and eclectic reader.

To put it simply: if Francis were a drug, Arthur would have been high on him.

He hadn’t been the only one to notice how charming the Frenchman was, however. From his body language, to the way he spoke, all deep voice, nice clothes, checky smiles, kissing checks. Sharp blue eyes that told stories of experience and mischief. The campus had never stood a chance, really, and all seemed to swoon when he passed. And Francis flirted with them all, although Arthur did seem to be his favourite victim.

\- x -

Why he had agreed to go to that Halloween party was beyond him.

His friends had been quite insistent that he went, it’s true. Apparently, his sour mood and tiredness hadn’t gone unnoticed by them, who thought it would do him some good to go out and relax a bit for a change. He knew, nonetheless, that they would have understood (and heard only some mild complaining) if he had decided to stay at home, and yet, there he was.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like parties. Actually, despite his arguably often stuck up appearance, he did love a good party, and even more the bar section. But lately he had been feeling just so drained, that all he wanted was to go home, curl up on his couch to watch a film or read a book and not sleep.

As he searched for his friends in the crowd, a deep, velvet like voice started to sing.

“Oh my god, I love this cover!”, exclaimed someone near him.

I know you I walked with you once upon a dream, I know you that look in your eyes is so familiar to me… went the song.

Right then, he felt someone purr on his ear with a familiar French accent.  
“Listen mon amour, it’s our song”

When he turned around, however, the person was gone. Was he hearing things now as well, or had Francis really said that? The man hadn’t said anything suspicious since the day they had met so he had thought…

Arthur needed a drink. Now.

From that point on he was obstinate to get completely shit faced, drinking cup after cup until he could feel his head spin, to the amusement and worry of everyone else on the bar. It was around then that he caught sight of Francis, who had been chatting with some pretty girl, but once in a while would glance worriedly at Arthur’s direction.

How dare that man make such expression at him, he though. Didn’t the insufferable git know he was his solely reason of distress?!

With rather uncertain steps, the Englishman marched at the other direction’s and, with no warning whatsoever, pulled the other in for a passionate kiss.  
He must not have been the only one looking upon to that moment though, for Francis promptly and enthusiastically responded, pushing him for a nearby sofa and having them turn around so Arthur could sit on his lap.

They had no shame whatsoever. Despite being surrounded by people, the two felt as if in a parallel universe. No one seemed to exist but the other, and so hands went everywhere, touching, feeling exploring. Hair was pulled and necks sucked. Lips bitten until blood emerged.

There was no time to breath, nor time to talk. Arthur did not dare open his eyes.

Would Francis look like a demon if he did? Or would he look human? And most importantly, the question he didn’t dare answer, did it matter at this point?  
Curiosity got the better of him, in the end. While Francis made a mess of his neck, he slowly opened his eyes. And what he saw, their reflection on the widow’s behind them, was enough to sober him up.

Not because of Francis, who did have the wings and horns of his dreams, but because of his own reflection. He looked like an angel, white wings, halo and all. And his expression… He looked back at Arthur in what seemed to be a mix of pity and resignation.

It was too much. He needed to get away, sort his thoughts out. What was he thinking, snogging with Francis when his gut feeling kept telling him to run away and never look back?

He tried to disentangle himself from the other man, but the Frenchman was reluctant to let him go, only holding him closer.

“Let me go Frog! Sod OFF!” He shouted at the other, making quite the scene. People turned towards the couple to see what was going on.

With the attention, Francis had no alternative but to free him, but before he could leave, the Frenchman griped with almost inhuman force at the his arm and pulled Arthur down.

“Why do you keep running away? Didn’t you do the pact solely so we could be together? I don’t understand…”, he whispered on the other’s ear, his voice sounding so deeply hurt and confused it almost was enough to make Arthur stay.

Almost.

With a haunted expression, the British boy sprinted at the bathroom’s direction.

There were other three people there, so he made a scene of being almost vomiting, making them fled right away with disgust. Usually, he would be ashamed of making such an impression, but now he just couldn’t give less of a shit. Arthur needed to be alone.

He stopped in front of the sink, supporting himself on the counter, as his legs were still too unreliable. With one trembling hand, he opened the tap and splashed his face several times. Gradually, then, he raised his head.

The pitiful expression was still in place, but everything else about the refection was a mess. A dark, tick liquid with strong sent of sulphur was slowly covering the once immaculate snowy wigs. The halo above his head cracked and fell off, and, right before his eyes, he saw two horns rise from his head - not without pain. For a moment, Arthur even thought he might pass out because of it. His hair went from dirty blonde, to crimson red.

All at once, he heard the bathroom door open, and as someone stepped in, the temperature increased several degrees in the place. It was way, way too hot, but for some reason it didn’t bother Arthur in the slightest this time.

Francis approached him from behind, putting a quite uncertain hand on his shoulder, which quickly became steady as Arthur’s body relaxed.

“Took your time, didn’t you?”

Arthur turned around, and smirked.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr! I'm @aphport there <3


End file.
